Hope Potter and the Sorcerers Stone
by Moonysilverwolf
Summary: Hope Potter always knew she was different. But only when a gentle giant whisks her away to a magical alley will she realize just how different she is. Follow Hope Potter through her first year at Hogwarts as she discovers the world she was born into, makes new friends, uncovers a mystery, and starts to build herself up to the person she was meant to be. #1 Building Hope Fem!Harry
1. Chapter 1: The Vanishing Glass

**DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DO NOT OWN THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER OR IT'S AMAZING CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE AMAZING WOMAN THAT IS JOANNE ROWLING.**

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Hope woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched.

Hope heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of pots and pans.

She rolled onto her back and thought about the dream she had just had. It had been a good one. She remembered the flying motorcycle and the amazing view of the sky. She had been wrapped up all warm and was able to see more stars than she ever had before. The sound of the motorcycle had been comforting. She had been content for the first time in years. Sadly it was just a dream.

Her aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"No." she replied. She was still annoyed about being woken up.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Hope groaned.

"What did you say?" her aunt snapped through the door.

Hope groaned again.

Dudley's birthday - how could she forget? It's all the hippo had been raving about for the past two weeks.

Hope got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Hope liked spiders, because they were the only company she had in the the cupboard under the stairs and that was where she slept. Plus they happened to be very good listeners.

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, and the leather jacket he begged Aunt Petunia for. (He only wanted it cause he had seen her eying it in a store window) Not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Hope, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Hope(even though Petunia didn't approve), but he couldn't often catch her. Hope didn't look it, but she was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Hope had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was because the only shirts she had to wear were old ones of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than she was. The only reason she had pants and underwear that fit was because her aunt felt just a little bit of empathy towards her.

At school she was usually laughed at for her baggy shirts and scruffy appearance.

Mainly it was the girls that laughed and whispered. They stopped picking on her to her face when in third year Hope had turned all their hair rainbow colors.

No one could prove it, but everyone suspected it was her.

Apparently she's a "troubled child" .

The boys mainly just stared and kept their distance. Hope sometimes liked to stare back and see how red their faces could get.

Hope had a thin face, black hair, and piercing bright green eyes. It didn't take much to realized she was beautiful child, but the Dursley family's hate for anything strange blinded them of this fact.

Hope liked her appearance. Especially the very thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. She thought it was wicked, and the first question she could ever remember asking Petunia was how she had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions - that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Of course she never followed this rule. Her favorite question was "why".

Vernon entered the kitchen as Hope was turning over the bacon. "Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Vernon (she never thought of him as Uncle in her head) looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Hope needed a haircut. Hope must have had more haircuts than the rest of the kids in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply grew that way - all over the place. She _could_ use her hair ability to calm it down, but the Dursley's didn't need to know that. Her hair was one of the things that kept here sane while she was locked up in the cupboard. She would spend her time trying to recreate hairstyles she sees other girls wearing at school or on TV. She was rather good at it. When she was about seven, she was practicing how to do a french braid and she accidentally turned her hair red after making a mistake for the fourth time. After that changing her hair color became one of her favorite thing to do.

Hope was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Hope often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Hope put the plates on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.

Hope, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began sneaking some bacon into her pocket as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously could tell he was about to through a hissy fit too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Hope wanted to gag.

It can't be healthy to spoil a child like that and it was disgusting to watch.

"So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

It looked like the math was hurting his brain.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

Hope actually did gag this time which earned her a dirty look from Petunia, who was the only one close enough to actually hear her.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Hope and Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, a VCR, and a black leather jacket which he put on right away, all the while smirking at Hope.

Hope couldn't help but internally laugh. It was 80 degrees outside and he was going to be miserable.

 _Idiot_.

He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take her." She jerked her head in Hopes direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Hopes heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Hope was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a nice but crazy old lady who lived two streets away. Hope didn't like it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made her look at photographs of all of her cats.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Hope as though she'd planned this. Hope knew she should feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had

broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when she reminded himself it would be

a whole year before she had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Vernon suggested. "Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl."

The Dursleys often spoke about Hope like this, as though she wasn't there - or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug... or a shoe.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

Hope wished she was in Majorca.

"You could just leave me here," Hope put in hopefully (she'd be able to have free reign on the house for a change. Maybe she can steal some of Petunia's hairpins so she could practice her lock picking, she figured it would be a handy skill if she got good enough).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Hope, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take her to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave her in the car..."

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give in to his demands.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let her spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

How can someone be so gullible?

Hope prided herself when it came to her intelligence. And to watch her aunt get manipulated so easily by her cousin was just cringe worthy for her.

In school she was never able to show off. She wanted to stay on the down low. At least for now.

"I... don't... want... her... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled as he fake cried pathetically. "She always sp- spoils everything!"

He shot Hope a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang - "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Petunia frantically -and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was creepy. Hope could usually find him staring at her with his beady little rat eyes. He was also usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.

Half an hour later, Hope, who was very uncomfortable, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley on either side of her, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they'd left, Vernon had taken Hope aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, getting into Hope's kicking distance (in her opinion if your close enough to kick you are too close) and putting his pudgy purple face inches in front of hers, "I'm warning you now, girl- any funny business, anything at all - and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

To this family, funny business usually meant anything fun or even mildly entertaining.

"It's not like I'd be able to do anything too bad," said Hope rolling her eyes, "Honestly..."

But Vernon gave her a look that said he didn't believe her. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Hope. It's not like she meant for these things to happen. They just do. It's part of who she is.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Hope coming back from the barbers looking as though her hair had grown even longer, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair so short she was almost bald except for her bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar."

Hope was mortified.

Dudley had laughed himself silly at Hopes misery. She had spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where she was already laughed at for her baggy boy clothes.

Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it

had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off .

That was when she learned that she could change the length of her hair and not just the color.

She had been given a week in her cupboard for this.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force her into a revolting old dress that had belonged to Mrs. Figg's niece (bright pink and very poofy...gross) - The harder she tried to pull it over her head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Hope. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to her great relief, Hope wasn't punished.

On the other hand, she'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing her as usual when there she was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys received an angry letter from Hope's headmistress about how she had been climbing school buildings.

But all she'd tried to do (as she shouted at Vernon through the locked door of her cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors.

Hope tried to convince herself that the wind must have caught her in mid- jump, but her brain wouldn't accept that.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong.

It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, her cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about people at work, Hope, the council, Hope, the bank, and Hope were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle passed them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Hope, "It was flying."

Vernon nearly crashed the car while he turned right around in his seat and yelled at Hope, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache:

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

"Obviously," said Hope with an eye roll.

If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than her asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon - they seemed to think she might get dangerous ideas.

They weren't entirely wrong.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families.

It only took Dudley five minutes before he realized the reason he was sweating a lake was because he wore a leather jacket in the _summer._

 _Idiot._

Going through the entrance Dudley, Piers, and Hope got ice creams. Vernon hadn't wanted to get her one, but before she could get ushered away the lady had already asked what she wanted. She took advantage and got the most expensive thing on the menu just to make Vernon's face go purple.

Hope surprisingly, had the best morning she'd had in a long time. She was walked a bit of a distance behind the Dursleys so that no one thought she was there with them.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because didn't have enough ice cream on top of his dessert. Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Hope was allowed to finish the first.

Hope felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in

there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts

of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. So far this was Hope's favorite place in the whole zoo.

Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and man-crushing pythons. It didn't take long for Dudley to find the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body around Vernon four times over and crushed him into thinness- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood.

In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass trying to wake the poor thing.

"Make it move," he whined at his father.

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He waddled away.

Hope moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. It truly was a beautiful snake with green and brown scales that seemed very well taken care. Judging by how shiny they were.

She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Hope's.

It winked.

Hope stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching.

They weren't. She looked back at the snake and winked too.

The snake jerked its head toward Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Hope a look that said quite plainly:

"This isn't the first time some idiot has done this to me."

"I know," Hope murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from?" Hope asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Hope peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Hope read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - that must suck. Being stuck here, I mean?"

As the snake nodded its head. The poor thing looked miserable. She wished she could help him,but there was nothing she could do.

A deafening shout behind Hope made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE

WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way," he said, pushing Hope away. Caught by surprise, Hope fell hard on the concrete floor.

Hope sat up and glared at Dudley.

The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People started to scream.

The snake slithered out of the now glasses case, Hope heard a hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, Missstresssss."

Hope had been called many things, but mistress had to be s new one.

Hope was baffled. She knew that snake had talked to her. There was no mistaking it.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

Hope noticed that it looked like everyone was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

Thats what she wanted to know too.

She knew she must have been responsible. But did she make it nonexistent or did it appear somewhere else? Then there was how did she do it? There were so many questions, but she had no idea how to get the answers.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber.

As far as Hope had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, the snake was just trying to scare them a little, but it seemed they got more than just a little scared.

By the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley and Piers were hysterical. Hammering on about how they almost died.

But worst of all, for Hope at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Hope was talking to it, weren't you, Hope?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Hope. He was so angry he could hardly speak and his face had turned the purple color that Hope thought was hilarious. He managed to say, "Go - cupboard - stay - no meals," before he collapsed into a chair.

Hope lay in her dark cupboard much later. She didn't know what time it was, but she was sure the Dursleys were asleep. Soon she'd be able to sneak out and steal some food.

She'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as

long as she could remember, ever since she'd been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. Well that's what her aunt said happened. She never really believed it. Hope's really good at spotting lies (she liked to think of it as her superpower) and she was certain that was one.

Hope had a very good memory and she can remember some things from her life with her parents. She remembers her moms soft red hair and bright green eyes. She remember her dads lopsided smile and crazy hair that was exactly like hers. She even remembered other people. People who she couldn't put names to, but their faces were clear and so was the love that shown on them. One man had grey eyes and long hair that she loved to tug on. The other man had warm light brown eyes and he always smelt like chocolate.

Those are the happy memories

But then sometimes when she strained her memory during long hours in the cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding

flash of green light and a burn- ing pain on her forehead.

Those were the bad memories.

Her aunt and uncle never spoke about her parents.

There were no photographs of them in the house.

When she had been younger, Hope had dreamed and dreamed of one of her "uncles",as she likes to call them in her head, coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the

Dursleys were her only family.

Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know her. Very strange strangers they were, too.

A tiny man in a top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After that, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything.

A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus.

A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word.

The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Hope tried to get a closer look.

At school, Hope had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Hope Potter in her baggy old boy clothes, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.


	2. Chapter 2: Letters From No One

**DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DO NOT OWN THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER OR IT'S AMAZING CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE AMAZING WOMAN THAT IS JOANNE ROWLING.**

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Hope the longest punishment she had ever had.

By the time she was allowed out of the cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already ruined most of his new thing. He had even knocked down poor old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Hope was glad school was over, but Dudley always had his insufferable friends over. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of them all, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Hope Hunting.

Dudley's friends may never hurt her, but they never stopped Dudley from hurting her. And in Hope's books, that makes them just as bad as he is.

This was why Hope spent as much time as possible out of the house.

She often went to the old play ground that was left abandon after they built a new one just a block from Privet Drive.

She liked to go there to think. At the moment, she was thinking about the future.

Dudley had been accepted at Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Hope was going to Stonewall High, the local public school.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," Dudley told Hope. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Hope. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick."

Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Hope at Mrs. Figg's.

Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as

usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats. Hope found that terribly ironic.

She let Hope watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd kept it in one of her mothball infested closets.

That evening, Dudley strutted around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform.

Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and stupid looking hats called boaters.

They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking.

This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst

into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.

Hope didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

It's not her fault he looked so utterly ridiculous.

The next morning Hope sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High.

Her aunt had come home the day before with Hope clothes for school. They were all plain. Not that that bothered Hope. But it was the skirts and Dudley hand me downs that horrified her.

At the moment Aunt Petunia was dyeing some of Dudley's clothes grey.

"Ugh, I'm going to look like an elephant.", thought Hope.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell.

Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley messed with his stupid stick.

They heard the click of the mail slot.

Hope automatically got up to get be mail, knowing Vernon would make her get it anyway.

Hope dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail.

Three things lay on the doormat, but only one caught her attention-a letter for Hope.

Hope picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. Who would write to her? She didn't know anyone. But there it was written, clear as day.

Ms. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of old fashioned yellowish paper and the writing looked like it was written with a calligraphy pen. When she turned it over she saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Hope went back to the kitchen, but not before she stuffed the letter in her back pocket. She knew she would never get to read the letter if her so called family got ahold of it.

She handed Vernon the rest of the mail.

Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk."

Hope went to sit back down and felt Dudley hand on a place it was defiantly not supposed to be. She turned around about to slap him, not even worried about the consequences, when she stopped and stared in horror.

Right there, in Dudley's fat sausage fingers, was her letter.

"Dad!" said Dudley.

"Dad, Hopes's got something!"

Hope was on the verge of punching him right then and there. Now neither of the will know what it says.

"That's mine!" said Hope, trying to snatch it before Vernon. Sadly he was closer and got it first.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it

high out of his reach.

And if Dudley couldn't reach it, Hope sure as hell couldn't.

Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Hope and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

Hope just glared and stood off to the side.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to read it," said Hope furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Hope didn't move.

"I. Want. My. Letter." She said coldly. "Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Hope and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the

kitchen door behind them.

Hope and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Hope lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -"

Hope could see Vernon's shadow pacing the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...

"But -"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Hope in her cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Hope, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Do you know who it's from? I know you do. Who is it?"

"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Hope angrily, "it had the cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling and onto his head.

He shook his head to get rid of the spiders and took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er - yes, Hope - about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Hope.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Hope one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room.

She sat down on the bed and stared around her. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. Hope was great full for that. At least now she'll have something to do.

Hope sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday she'd have given anything to be up here. Today she'd rather be reading that letter.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He threw a big fit which included a lot of hitting and kicking and he had even thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.

Hope was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing she'd stuffed that letter in the slot of the cupboard before entering the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept sharing dark looks. Like they expected their impending doom.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Hope(she thought it was really creepy), made Dudley go and get it.

Then they heard him shout, "There's another one! 'Ms. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"

Vernon made a sound that remained Hope of a constipated gorilla and lumbered out of the kitchen. Hope right behind him. Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Hope had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind and was being flung left and right. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Vernon finally got the upper hand over Dudley and stood up with Hope still clinging to his back.

"Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed over his shoulder to Hope. "Dudley - go - just go."

Hope dropped down and stomped up the stairs.

Hope walked round and round her new room. Someone knew she had moved out of the cupboard and they seemed to know she hadn't received her

letter. Surely that meant they'd try again?

Hope got up early the next morning to sneak out to meet the post man. She planned on using her cuteness to her advantage and charm the mailman into giving her the letter (she's really good with words), but the plan was quickly quashed. When she went to take a step out the door, she stepped right on Vernon's face.

He seemed to have had a plan too and decided to camp out on the porch like a guard dog so he could get to the letter first.

He shouted at Hope for about half an hour for trying to sneak out and then another half hour for the footprint on his face and then told her to go and make a cup of tea.

Hope miserably went off into the kitchen and by the time she got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

Before she could do anything Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces.

Vernon didnt go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

Fat chance of that happening.

On Friday, twelve letters had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Vernon stayed at home again.

After burning all the letters, he got

out a hammer and nails and boarded shut every nook and cranny he could find.

He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

Hope spent that day stalking him and snapping her fingers at random moments just to watch his reaction.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to

Hope found their way into the house. This time, the letters felt the wrath of Aunt Petunia and her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Hope in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table happily.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"

Hope swore his eye was twitching.

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Hope was quick to jump up and try to snatch one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Hope around the waist and threw her into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut and braced himself against it.

"That does it," said Vernon trying sound calm, but pulling parts out of his mustache at the same time,"I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

Ten minutes later they had forced their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.

Dudley was sulking in the back seat. His father had hit him upside the head for taking too long.

That must be the first time he has ever been disciplined, Hope thought.

They drove. And they drove. And drove.

Hope was going out of her mind. Being stuck in a backseat with some like Dudley can test someone's patients.

Every now and then Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction.

"Shake'em off... shake 'em

off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

Hope was hoping he hadn't gone insane. Having a mental person behind the wheel can't be safe.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling.

He probably hadn't gone this long without food his whole life.

Vernon stopped at last outside a hotel on the outskirts of a big city. It looked like a vampire could live their comfortably with how gloomy and dark it looked.

Dudley and Hope shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets.

They had just finished breakfast, when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Ms. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Ms. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Hope made a grab for the letter but

Vernon knocked her hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

Probably to tear them apart.

When he returned, it was time to hit the road again.

Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all in the car, and disappeared.

Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "

Monday. This reminded Hope of something. If it was Monday then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Hope's eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had given her a coat hanger and a pair of Aunt Petunia's old socks. Still, you didn't turn eleven every day.

Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. On top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Vernon gleefully (Hope thought he looked a bit crazed), clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the water.

It looked like one misplaced ripple would land it in the bottom of the ocean.

"I've already got us some rations," said Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat and icy sea spray was pelting them in their faces.

After what seemed like forever they reached the rock, where Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled like seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas.

He tried to start a fire but there was no wood that was dry enough to burn.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

Hope scowled.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail.

Hope thought differently.

As night fell, the storm blew up around them.

Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa.

She and Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Hope was left to find the softest bit of floor she could and to curl up under the thinnest,

most ragged blanket.

The storm raged on.

Hope couldn't sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger.

The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Hope she'd be eleven in ten minutes' time.

She lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Hope heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although she might be warmer if it did.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise?

One minute to go and she'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine - maybe she'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Hope sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	3. Chapter 3: The Keeper of Keys

**DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DO NOT OWN THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER OR IT'S AMAZING CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE AMAZING WOMAN THAT IS JOANNE ROWLING.**

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

Hope actually snorted at this.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands.

So that's what was in the package, Hope realized.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat, looking as though he was about to wet himself.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was cowering behind Vernon.

"An' here's Hope!" said the giant.

Hope looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

She couldn't help but smile back.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer mom, but yeh've got yer dad's hair."

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" Vernon said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Vernon's hand and tied it into a knot like it was nothing.

Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway - Hope," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Hope opened it excitedly. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Hope written on it in green icing.

Hope looked up at the giant smiling. "Thank you, um...who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Hope's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags and wet chair legs in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Hope rushed over to warm her hands.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a

copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and

smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Hope already liked this guy.

He passed the sausages to Hope, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take his eyes off the

giant.

Who was this guy?

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er - no. Why should I?" said Hope.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about," Hope said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them who should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters, but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Hope.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this girl - this girl! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Hope looked affronted.

"I know a lot of things," she said defensively. "I'm smarter than most actually."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

She was starting to get frustrated now. What was this guy talking about?

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered stuff that Hope couldn't make out. Hagrid stared wildly at Hope.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What!? Hold on! _Famous_?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..."

Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Hope with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from her all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Hope.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Vernon in panic.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Hope - yet a witch."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"Excuse me? What did you just call me?" said Hope defensively.

"A witch, o' course," said Hagrid (not catching on to her defensive tone), sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Hope eyes quickly trained into the letter.

She stretched out her hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Hope's head like fireworks and she couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes she stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Hope could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Hope her letter.

Taking her to buy her things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well. Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Hope realized her mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"She's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her," he said.

"What's a muggle?" said Hope, interested.

"It's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!"

"You knew?" said Hope. "Of _course_ you knew! Am I the only one who _didn't_ know?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly, ignoring her second question. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? How exactly did they die? And don't try to tell me it was a car crash again!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an'

James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Hope Potter not knowin' her

own story when every kid in our world knows her name!"

"But _why_? What _happened_?" Hope asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no

idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Hope, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someones gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who? "

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Hope, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Hope suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right - Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don'

make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years

ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were

afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin'

himself power, all right. Dark days, Hope. Didn't know who ter trust,

didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible

things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -

an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was

Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches

yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't

work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Hope. No one ever lived after

he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Hope's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she had ever remembered it before - and she remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel

laugh.

Hagrid was watching her sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon.

Hope jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there.

Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, nothing a good beating cant cure - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you - one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Hope, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. "But what happened to Vol-, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Hope. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful.

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his

time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~ reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Hope. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Hope, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt terrible.

Her whole life she had wanted her parents and uncles. She wanted to play in the garden with her dad and learn how to cook with her mom.

But instead she'd spent her life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Vernon.

Instead of love she got spite.

Instead of hugs she got shoves and punches and slaps.

Instead of a happy life, she got a life in a home where she was unwanted.

All because some psychopath murdered her parents.

Some people believe he's still out there, Hagrid had said. Well if he is Hope won't let him ruin anymore lives.

If by some miracle she got to go to Hogwarts, she would make the best of that time to prepare herself.

She was pulled from her thought by Hagrid.

"Just you wait. You'll be right famous when you get to Hogwarts."

But Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you she's not going?" he hissed. "Shes going to Stonewall High and she'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and she needs

all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. She's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. She'll be with youngsters of her own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL To TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled

it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a

sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Hope saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in

his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hope was snorting with laughter. Her somber mood lifting at seeing Dudley with a pigs tail. She thought it suited him.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work

anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

That set Hope into another round of giggles.

He cast a sideways look at Hope with a smile that was somewhat hidden behind his beard.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Hope.

"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly.

"Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Hope.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

 **AN: I can't wait for the next chapter. I'm actually gonna be changing things up now.**


	4. Chapter 4: Diagon Alley

ISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DO NOT OWN THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER OR IT'S AMAZING CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE AMAZING WOMAN THAT IS JOANNE ROWLING.

Her first thought was about what today would bring.

She sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Hope scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon

was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it

open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to

attack Hagrid's coat.

"Hey!"

Hope tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at her and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Hope loudly. "There's an owl.

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets filled with random things.

Finally she found some strange coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

Hope sniggered at the name. What kind of name is that for money?

"The little bronze ones."

She counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Hope could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Hope, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Hope was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. She had just thought of something that made her feel as though the happy balloon inside her had got a puncture.

"Um - Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"I haven't got any money - and there's no way my aunt and uncle will pay for my school supplies."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head.

"D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything? First stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have their own banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Hope dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never

mess with goblins, Hope. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly.

"He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see. Got everythin'? Come on, then."

The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight.

"How did you get here?" Hope asked.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah - but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Hope still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Hope another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Hope, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

It didn't take long before they had their feet on solid land again.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town

to the station. Hope couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, but he kept pointing at random things explaining how odd they are.

"Hagrid," said Hope, panting a bit as she ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

She remembered the conversation they had on the boat and she was intrigued by the thought of dragons. She adored animals. No matter how scary they may seem.

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid.

"Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"Really?"

Hope would love to interact with dragons, but to keep one as a pet seemed like a pretty big bite to chew.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid - here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hope had to pay because Hagrid didn't understand "muggle money".

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a giant sock.

Who the sock would fit, Hope had no clue as it was the size of her whole body.

"Still got yer letter, Hope?"

"Yep, right here," she said while pulling the yellow envelope from her pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Hope unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before.

She scanned the paper and realized she had no idea where they would get things like a cauldron or wand.

What caught her attention the most was the post scrip at the bottom.

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN

BROOMSTICKS

She wondered what idiot first year ruined it for the rest of them. Flying seemed like fun. Maybe she can get a broom and sneak it in somehow.

"Where can you even get this stuff?" Hope wondered aloud.

Hagrid just gave her a secretive smirk and a look that said "You'll see when we get there. "

Hope had never been to London before.

Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way.

He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly about how everything was too small.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed some stairs.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd like the Red Sea. All Hope had to do was keep close behind him.

They passed the kind of book shops and music stores that Hope had always seen while shopping with Aunt Petunia, but had never had money to go inside. Maybe she can get a bit of extra money and come back another time. She was just itching to buy a music player.

Finally after walking for what seemed like forever they started to slow down.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Hope wouldn't have noticed it was there.

The people passing by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all.

In fact, Hope had a feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it.

After a moment, Hagrid had steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny little glasses of green liquid. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who looked like a toothless walnut.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in.

Everyone seemed to know Hagrid and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping a hand on Hope's shoulder.

It took a lot of effort on her part to not crumple to the ground from the weight of it.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Hope, "is this - can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Hope Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hope and snatched her hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back."

Hope didn't know what to say.

Everyone was looking at her and it was kinda freaking her out.

All of a sudden there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Hope found herself shaking hands with a bunch of strangers.

"Doris Crockford, Miss Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Miss Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Hope, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone.

"Did you hear that? She remembers me!"

Hope shook hands again and again.

She was one more hand shake away from hiding behind Hagrid to escape the mob, when a pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid.

"Hope, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

Professor Quirrell was a shaky man who you could hardly understand. Apparently he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He gave Hope a bad feeling in her gut.

To her relief the others pulled Hope away before he could start up another conversation with her. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all.

At last, Hagrid managed to rescue her from the babble.

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Hope.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always like that?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was

studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

He tapped the wall a few times with the tip of the umbrella.

The last brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a

small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Hope's amazement. They stepped through the archway.

The streets was filled with so many fascinating things. She couldn't look away from all the shops and buildings.

But the most impressive by far was the bank.

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached the snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its doors was a creature Hope could only assume was a goblin.

As they were about to enter the second set of doors, Hope noticed a poem that read:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Hope now understood the warning Hagrid gave her.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a

vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing

coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin.

"We've come ter take some money outta Ms. Hope Potter's safe."

"You have her key, Sir?"

Hagrid dug out the key from one of his many pockets. But not before depositing a few stale dog treats on the counter. (the goblin did not seem pleased with this)

"Got it righ' here. An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Hope followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

Behind the door was a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor.

Soon they were in a cart and on their way down the tracks.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hope didn't even bother trying to remember all the turns they took. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Once, Hope swore she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and she tried to lean over to see if it was a dragon, but Hagrid pulled her back in the cart before she could get a better look.

When the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hope gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns

of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

This was the most money she had ever seen. And if she was correct this was only a trust vault. And if this was just a trust vault, she couldn't imagine what the main vault looked like.

Hagrid helped Hope pile some of it into a bag.

Hope stuffed her pockets too. She was hoping to exchange it for muggle money.

After explaining the currency to her, Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook, but Hope could've sworn she saw a smirk on his face.

Now that she was used to the speed Hope was actually able to enjoy the ride. She whooped when they sped off.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground lake, and Hope leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back by the scruff of her neck.

When vault seven hundred and thirteen got opened Hope half expected to see fabulous jewels at the very least.

But all she saw was a little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor.

Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Hope longed to know what it was, but knew that if she were to ask she wouldn't get an answer.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

When they finally got off the cart, the first thing Hagrid did was brace himself against the marble wall. He gave her a gesture that she translated it.

"Just give me a minute."

While Hagrid got back to his senses Hope decided to take advantage of her minute of free reign.

She had been able to stuff 27 galleon into all of her pockets. She was lucky the pants were baggy or she wouldn't have been able to fit nearly as much as she did.

Once she exchanged the coins she had a total of 513 pounds.

AN: I know it's 5 pounds to a galleon, but I'm changing that a little bit.

She quickly met up with Hagrid who had seemed to have gotten his bearings back.

Not long after, Hope found herself blinking in the sun outside of the snow white building.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Listen, Hope, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

He did still look a bit sick, so Hope entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling excited to finally get some clothes that were her own.

When she entered though, all she saw were the robes that everyone in the alley wore.

Did they not sell normal clothes in this place?

Madam Malkin was nice enough as she ushered Hope into the back to get fitted. But Hope was still disappointed.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

Madam Malkin stood Hope on a stool next to him and slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Hope.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Wow, not even five minutes and she already disliked this guy.

He was like a small albino version of Dudley. Hope shuddered at the thought.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Hope.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," Hope said popping the p, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Hope, feeling more annoyed about how little she knew about this world.

Her world. She reminded herself.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know

I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," Hope hummed, wishing she actually knew what the hell he was talking about.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Hope and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Hope, "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Hope. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the

school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Hope coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer and a pink ting across his cheeks.

"Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Hope shortly. She didn't feel much like going into the matter with this rude boy.

"Oh, sorry," he said, surprisingly looking a little ashamed. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're

just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.

What's your surname, anyway?"

Right before Hope could reach and smack the boy, Madam Malkin said, "Your done, my dear," and Hope, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the boy hopefully.

Hope was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Hope lied.

They continued to shop as Hope told him about the blonde boy.

"-and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line 0' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So whats Quidditch?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but don't believe everythin' yeh hear."

Hope could tell that Hagrid wouldn't give her enough time to do the shopping she wanted, but after she gave him her best puppy eyes, she got him to give her extra time at the book store.

One look at her face and he couldn't say no.

Flourish and Blotts had shelves and shelves that were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

Hope was in heaven.

Hagrid (who had been keeping a close eye on her) almost had to drag Hope away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley." Was the only excuse she needed.

Hope not only got her school books, but she also got Hogwarts: A History, Quidditch Throw The Ages, A Guid to Medieval Sorcery, Ancient Runes Made Easy, Curses and Counter-Curses, The Tales of Beetle the Bard, A True Tale of the Life of a Werewolf, and last but not least Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do With Them Now That You've Wised Up.

She was hoping to find something that was related to how her hair changed colors.

She wanted to get more, but if she stayed too long, they wouldn't have time to get the rest of her stuff.

The rest of the shopping went rather quickly. Now all that was left on the list was a wand.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Hope felt himself go red. "You don't have to -"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes.

Hope now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Hope had instantly felt connected to her and insisted she was the one, despite the clerks warning that she was a biter.

She couldn't stop voicing her thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly.

"Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Hope had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait.

Hope felt strangely as though she had

entered a very strict library.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.

Hope turned. Hagrid must have jumped, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Hope with a smile.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Hope Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hope.

Hope wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I

say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Hope were almost nose to nose.

Hope was feeling very awkward.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hopes forehead with a long, white finger.

Hoped leaned away. She never did like people touching her.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said after pulling his hand away.

"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and and said,"Well, now, enough of that - Miss Potter. Let me see."

He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm ambidextrous ," said Hope. She had never given that information to anyone before and it felt odd to share information.

"Hold out your arms. That's it."

He measured Hope from shoulders to fingers, then wrists to elbows, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head.

While he measured he went on to talk about his wands and how they are all unique.

Hope suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor.

"Right then, . Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Hope took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Hope tried - but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Hope tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for.

The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he got.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Hope took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Hopes wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious.."

Hope sighed know that she might as well ask, "what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Hope with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hope swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Miss Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Hope shivered. She would've rather gone without that information. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

Hope was silent till they had gotten to Underground.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," Harris said.

He bought Hope a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them.

Hope kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Hope? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Hope wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the best birthday of her life - and yet - she chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special, but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry - I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Hope. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Hope on to the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said.

"First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Hope."

The train pulled out of the station.


End file.
